Seat next to you
by AmyNY
Summary: Everyone has to grow up someday. Even Jess Mariano. Lit. Sort of. Spoilers for the episode Say goodnight, Gracie.


_Summary: Everyone has to grow up someday. Even Jess Mariano. Lit. Sort of. Spoilers for the episode Say goodnight, Gracie._

_Disclaimer: I don't own anything, not even the title of this fic ("Seat next to you" is a song by Bon Jovi)_

_Authors note: Alright, so this is my first attempt at writing an angst fic. It probably isn't all that good but I thought I'd share it anyway. All the mistakes are mine…Oh, and I'd love to hear what you guys think, so please leave a review after reading._

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"_Love does not begin and end the way we seem to think it does. Love is a battle, love is a war; love is a growing up." – Unknown_

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He knew it the moment he saw the look on her face that night at Kyle's room. The look of complete disbelief, shock, confusion, wondering (Was Lorelai right about him not being the right guy for her after all?). He _knew_ it. And yet that didn't stop him from wanting to be wrong, from wanting her to come up to him and say they'll make it work no matter what.

But seeing her with Dean at the stairs, seeing how well he fit into her world, how openly he displayed his concern and all of his emotions for her to see, and not tried to make it a fucking guessing game, only confirmed it. Maybe that made him boring; less interesting, but in the end what was more important? He guessed the last one wasn't for sure.

But at that time, standing next to Dean of all people, he realized that it was all over. It wasn't really his kind of place for an epiphany like that, but when did he ever had a right to choose anything in his life anyway?

And the fight he had later with the guy that was at least 7 inches taller than he was had more to do with denial than jealousy. He was fighting a battle already lost. It was a perfect distraction really. Because, if he was angry at Dean he didn't have time to think about the inevitable, to think about leaving this God damn Pleasantville behind.

About leaving _her_ behind.

As he watched her turn around, her eyes filling with tears as she frantically tried to remember which way lead to her house, he almost followed her wanting to explain this, to tell her he was sorry but he stopped at the last moment. There was no point, he'd never catch up to her. She was far ahead of him (But wasn't that always the case?)

And right now, sitting in the dark diner, with no one to fight, no drink to help him forget, surrounded by nothing but the silence, he had to admit defeat. It was painfully obvious just like that ache in his heart that just didn't want to go away (guess he had a heart after all, huh?). The more he thought about it, the more he felt it and as time passed it was starting to spread through his entire body leaving him almost paralyzed.

This wasn't the first time he fucked up something but it wasn't the same. Not just because he has managed to screw up practically every aspect of his life in the last couple of days but because someone else was affected by his immobility to do something right in his life.

And that someone happened to be the only person that ever gave a damn about him.

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In the morning he sat on the bus with only one thing in mind – getting as far away as possible. California seemed pretty far away and he had a place to stay at (or so he hoped) so he decided that would be his next destination, for a while at least (he never stayed long anywhere with the exception of Stars Hollow, which was kinda funny because he hated it since the moment he stepped of that bus). He looked through the window, houses and people fading away one after another, but as the distance increased the pain remained. It didn't go away, as he so childishly hoped. If nothing, it became stronger. He pulled a book out of his bag to distract himself from it all, from the urge to count down the miles that were separating him from her with every passing second.

And then he saw her, a few feet away, sitting at the exact same bus. He wasn't quite sure if it was a blessing or a punishment to see her one more time. Maybe it was a little bit of both. She looked in his direction and stood up walking towards the back of the bus to sit next to him. If she was surprised to see him here she didn't show it. Her face was almost expressionless and it was impossible for him to know what she was thinking. A thought how she was probably spending way too much time around him briefly crossed his mind before he turned to look at her.

It has been a couple of days since he last saw her and despite all that happened she still had that innocent look on her face. He wanted to blame it on the lack of makeup, because it was a school day, that made her look like that but he was sure it was just him taking that good old trip to the land of denial once again. It was easier to believe that than to think that he will be the one to blame for the loss of that same innocence.

They sat next to each other, engaged in a light conversation, each a willing participant in the familiar old game of avoidance. Her hair was pulled up in a high, neat pony tail. He wished it wasn't, he wished she left it lose, to fall freely down on her shoulders, because he wanted to remember her like that. She looked beautiful either way and for a brief moment he wondered what it would be like if he'd taken her to the prom, asked her for a dance and pulled her close, burying his head in the sea of curls, strawberry shampoo making him dizzy. And then he realized he never thought about this at all before because he knew he wasn't going to take her. Guess that somewhere deep down he has already admitted defeat a long time ago.

They're sitting too far from each other, and he wants to pull her closer and kiss her for one last time (he hates it that their last shared kiss was the one in a darkened room upstairs to the sounds of drunken kids laughing and singing of beat not to far away).

But guess that was his fault too.

It took her awhile to look at him, really look at him, his brown eyes looking even darker than usual. He looked away, afraid she'd realize he was leaving for good if he let her look at him long enough. It was something he loved about her, how she often knew what was going on with him even if he didn't say a word. And just then he decided he wasn't going to tell her. He just couldn't bear to see the look on her face when she'd find out the truth because he might've just changed his mind and stayed.

For her.

And she'd forgive him, and try to help him fix everything, because that's the kind of girl she was. And he'd fail her again because that's the kind of guy he was.

And nothing was worse than failing her, the one person in this world that never gave up on him, that told him over and over that he could do anything he wanted to do. Nothing, except failing her twice.

The bus stopped and she stood up to leave, looking at him for a long time, like she somehow knew she's never going to see him again. And he saw something in her eyes, something like forgiveness. As if she was saying to him that she didn't care that he was a real jerk that night at Kyle's.

And he thinks it's almost funny, how she's always willing to give him another chance even though he lost a right to one a long time ago. He wants to tell her he loves her but he doesn't because it would be selfish. He's already hurt her enough.

Instead he promises to call her later just before she steps of the bus. And he will. Maybe. Someday.

She was graduating, preparing for an Ivy League college, taking responsibility just like every adult person did, all grown up. And he still needed to do that. Grow up, find his way (it was true, no matter how cliché it sounded) or maybe continue down the well known path of self destruction. And if that was the case he'd rather listen to Taylor lecture him all day long then take her down with him.

Maybe that's what growing up was, thinking of other people, not just about yourself. But it wasn't as great and thrilling as he thought it would be. It was downright painful and about as fun as sitting through the Stars Hollow weekly town meetings.

It hurt, just like the knowledge that he didn't just lit up his first cigarette since they started dating because he was a hopeless nicotine addict but because he wanted to erase the taste of her strawberry lip-gloss from his lips.

With a heavy sight he leaned against his seat, eyes closed. He had nothing else left, no more fake smiles to offer, lies to tell…it was just him, the half burned cigarette and the knowledge he was doing the right thing. The grown up thing.

(the end)


End file.
